


Out of Temporal Waters

by 8TimesTheCharm



Category: King of Fighters
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death mentions, F/M, Gen, Multi, fighting happens a little, post KOF13 divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-07 09:00:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4257375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8TimesTheCharm/pseuds/8TimesTheCharm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The King of Fighters tournament ended with history being -slightly- rewritten, and in the aftermath, a certain Shion finally wriggles free of his dimensional incarceration... right beside the Lilien Knights on vacation. This is all going to end as well as you could expect, as Shion tries to adjust to new surroundings and find out what happened to Those From The Past in his forced absence. Rated mostly out of spoilers for KOFXI/XIII, 2nd person format.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Transcending Dimensions

**Author's Note:**

> (Plenty of liberties will be taken with backstories, but such is the fate of fighting game characters. I had this cooking up a while; hope you enjoy.)

1: SHION

The last thing you remember before being hurled into another fabric of time and space thinly separate from that of humanity’s is betrayal.

It’s the sneer of Magaki’s handsome face as it warps into his true hideousness, ‘blessed’ by Those From The Past in their reality twisting crusade to return Orochi to his former greatness. You can barely see the vermilion red Kusanagi flame impact with Magaki’s face before all you know is miasma crushing your body and soul—and you think, _you forsook your own humanity for hope of power_ , only to be discarded like a broken tool when you did your damned best and fought to your bone in Orochi’s name. To think, that this bastard asked you to kindly not betray him, only to dig that knife into your back when you had **_no means_** to fight back.

You cling to what you had as an ordinary human out of **rebellion** against Magaki; your name ( _Ziyuan_ … on foreign peninsulas and islands alike you would often roll your eyes and shrug when the alternative of Shion was given), your homeland (Kowloon loomed in the distance, you _think_ your parents admonished a wish to travel to the city it hid in, but you can’t remember who they were or what their names were either), your birthday (October, the 15th day—proof you are flesh and blood, there’s a document out there with all this information locked away but _where will you find it now_?).

Resentment boils within you as this uninhabitable darkness smothers you mentally, physically and emotionally. It’s all you cling to as a means to keep your sanity buoyant, to keep your spirit from caving in, to keep your body from expiring. It feels like you’ve lived five eternities of agony but suddenly the very same gate is flung open by a flustered and beaten Magaki, seemingly convinced of your brutal demise and forgetful of his own mortality. All you can identify is avenging yourself on him. With all the might you can muster (and even more beyond what you thought readily available), you find the room and energy to heft your loyal spear through your former master and kill him instantly, with his prone body leaking all the blood he thought he would never shed under master Orochi’s aegis. As if reacting adversely to its creator’s demise, your dimensional prison swallows you up once more; you wish you had your spear at least, some anchor of normalcy when it feels like the universe has swallowed you right down whatever the closest approximation to its oesophagus might be.

Another eon feels like it passes before you find yourself in blackness once more. At first you think you’ve been consigned to oblivion, but this is a little too coherent a thought for utter oblivion. The faintly audible crash of waves reinforces this possibility, and consciousness filters in once again. You curl your fingers as a test of motor functions, slowly scooping up grains of sand and pebbles alike. A few seagulls cry as they glide listlessly over the coastline where you seem to ostensibly have been washed up on. Pain sears through all of your limbs as a wonderfully succinct reminder of how alive you are after what should have been an utterly fatal encounter.

“Where the hell am I?” you want to say, but all that comes out is sand and a heavy, chesty cough to dislodge the other part of the beach sitting in your lungs. Your skull is laden with a headache and absolute **murder** rules your thoughts; if Magaki wasn’t dead already by your hand, you would be sure to put to damn good use the techniques of torture learned while in his employ. Music is now beginning to join in the coast harmony, as well as chatter. Your bleary eyes—unnaturally red in pupils and reddened by presumably sea salt if not much else—scan your surroundings, from a rather terrible vantage point that is the ground. _Great_. You’re near a pier, with a decent amount of people occupying what shops and restaurants are there as well as the general walkways. Of course, once you sever ties with the human hating Magaki, you obviously end up swimming among those you once called fellow man. What **delightful** irony that your surly mood is in no mind for.

“ _Oooh_ fackin’ hell!” a crystal clear voice spears through the ambient seaside atmosphere, bringing with it another resounding ache in your ailing head. If not for the fact you’re already considerably horizontal against the sand as it is, that would have sent you careening downwards. A blessing… and a curse.

“Boys, check that lass for signs of breathing. Wouldn’t do our reputation any good if we let ‘er expire on such a nice day, yeah?”

You wonder if delirium is the essence that’s faintly connecting the dots with that voice and Hong Kong, as your protesting body is flipped over and you’re suddenly staring at brilliant azure sky with a border of blurry faces and striped sailor shirts. The contrast is stinging, and your eyes close tightly with a vague attempt at a squirm. Who knew fighting against a dimensional prison to throw a spear would have taxed you of everything but the movement of your respiratory diaphragm? Mercifully the gaggle of brutes do nothing else, simply murmuring to one another while sounding oddly concerned—that was a thing new to you when mercy was an anomaly as it was.

“ _ **Yah**_! Fucking heels! Forgot the sand was so blummin’ hot. Alright lads, what’s the prognosis?! Who d’we have ‘ere?” You squint to find the source of that curious voice, watching the border of men huddle away and gold suddenly sears your lids again—it’s a woman with a crown of gold? No, her hair is simply blonde and catching sunlight like dry brambles tend to catch fire. You want to hiss at her to go away and leave you be, but everyone-- including you-- knows that you’re in no condition to be left to your own devices; all you do to voice discontent is a sharp exhaling sigh and a furrowed brow. “Cor, you’ve got some fantastic style going on. Well, if y’didn’t have Southtown’s beach in yer hair that is. C’mon pet, lemme getcha’ll tidied up. C’mon now, we’ll get ya safe home afterwards. Can’t have y’walking home looking like you lost a fight with a sandcastle. Now, where’s my fucking boat…?”

The ground vanishes beneath you, and you groggily realise the troupe of stripe shirt men have started carrying you aloft. The sensation is not unlike that of a rocking boat, but you’re beyond motion sickness after your jaunt through a rip of the space-time continuum, so you simply let your head hang back and see the world upside down, following the blonde woman in her purple silk garb, before your consciousness loses its battle against your tiredness.


	2. New Recruit!

2: BONNE JENET

Poor pet looked like skin and bone! That’s as much you were sure of before you had your loyal Knights pick her up and bring her aboard; a win-win where she’d get fed and watered and you might have a new crew member. You were due another lady in the ranks after all: there’s only so much time without some likeminded femininity you could handle. Gosh, some style she had—those braids? You’d die for some unique little flavour like that. Dunno if red contacts were in vogue, but to each their own, you ponder as you stare into your own blue eyes reflected by the golden edged mirror.

Carefully you gather your blonde locks into two thick strands, pulling them straight down by your face and grimacing as you focused your brainpower into imagining braids where you held them. Perhaps they wouldn’t suit… bah, maybe it’s best not to try steal someone else’s gimmick anyways. You stand back and let your hair sit naturally, hands on your hips as you check over your rose tattoo and any possibly amiss stitches in your purple pride and joy dress. Looking good, as always of course, so with that aside, you walk out onto the deck as your Lilien Knights snap to attention.

“All’s well boss!” they squawk and growl in their various pitches, young and old alike. A motley crew to follow one like you, many have noted— certainly nothing befitting a ‘harem’ like a lot of ignorant types would quickly assume! Though, you haven’t always been the most enlightened of thinkers… if you thought much beyond your tunnel focus at all.

“Good, good. And our guest?”

“Resting in the quarters y’set aside for ‘er!”

The oldest Lilien Knight snivelled through his shaky smile “Always space, I says. We wanted to wait for you before we checked on ‘er.”

“Good man,” you grin with a hard pat to the shoulder, moving towards the room where you designated the visitor’s new sleeping space. Of course, as leader of these pirates, you had free reign on all of the rooms and this was no different. With a fleeting creak as you wrench both the handle clockwise and the door open inwards, you step into the strangely darkened room.

“Y’awake yet, pet?” you venture, narrowing your eyes to adjust to the dim light. Despite this, you still manage to stub your damn toe on something mislaid on the floor. Idiot didn’t clean much up for our poor guest, you note with annoyance, as you find yourself beside the bed. “Hey, rise and shine.”

With naivety very much becoming of you, you reach out to her shoulder to shake her awake, only to find a stinging sensation around your wrist, which is shortly followed by a firm grip, as well as bright red eyes cutting through the darkness staring up at you. This isn’t unlike an encounter you had with a wild cat, which politely let you know you were skirting a line that you weren’t meant to cross; you feel like your visitor is also gently warning you of the same, a thought confirmed as she releases her grip as you move your hand back. “Ah, s-sorry—I just thought you were still conked out.”

“Hungry.”

“Oh, you peckish? Not a problem, one of my boys can whip up a hearty stew in no time.”

“ _Stew_?” she answers with incredulity and more than a hint of disgust.

“Y’got a problem with stew? …‘Fraid we don’t have many other options,” you mutter with a huff—culinary variation is something you’ve been hurting for aboard this damn ship. Sometimes the trappings of the West End never really left you.

“I’ll cook,” she replies, sitting up and gently brushing by your side. You’re just too late to quite seize her with a plea for her to rest some more and that you’ll figure something out for the food quandary you were in, about to reach for her until-- “DON’T touch me.”

Well, you couldn’t really argue the point any further after _**that**_ , so instead you just follow her to the kitchens with childlike curiosity as to what exactly she was planning to whip up for lunch.


	3. Getting to Know You

3: SHION

Your annoyance is reaching unparalleled levels, but you’re partially grateful you haven’t been _eviscerated_ and _dismembered_ for your hubris in that private hell you were briefly entombed in. Stuck aboard a pirate ship with the leader being a brainless blonde bimbo and her entourage of equally vacant clown car of striped shirts in what was probably a long way from the shrine you were posted at to guard, unfortunately you have very few options available. You had to attend to annoying human needs, which you still craved on occasion, before you could make any meaningful attempts at a plan of action.

Below deck, you traverse through the hall to happen across a considerably roomy kitchen—a surprise to you since it looks rather elaborately outfitted for such simplistic types living aboard this gaudy vehicle. It almost offends your every sense when you discover that despite subsiding almost entirely off of stew (which you admittedly have assumed on a whim rather than actually investigate this likelihood), the Lilien Knights (or so you could discern as a name what with all this _terrible_ graffiti on the walls) had a vast array of ingredients and spices for all possible combinations, a taste of each continents top 5 dishes at a guess! They probably left much of this idle if your hunch about this lazy stew was correct, using a fraction of what they had and throwing out all the rest—such a waste. All of this variation in ingredients and what they could make, _and it was lost on these morons_! Heh, now you were starting to sound like Magaki.

You dismiss the thought for the moment, and set about steeping yourself back into a hobby you thought you had lost touch with, cooking up a storm. In your trance as you flurry about between pan and pot, spice to herb, meat to vegetable, you reminisce about times watching chefs keenly as they created their art of flavour and presentation and thank whatever meant for such innocuous things to be as they were for the luck that nearby Hong Kong had a feast of international restaurants to observe. You’ve learned a lot, and this culinary storm you were the eye of was rapidly becoming a refresher in what you remembered from such times, turning the countertop into a veritable global buffet and only briefly stopping to roll up your sleeves some more. It felt like minutes, but a couple of hours had in fact passed, and you notice now the blonde woman almost oozing down the doorway whining and holding her stomach. “Is it ready?”

You scoff with a roll of your eyes, taking a plate with solely native comfort food (and you idly wonder what has you longing so much for China, but you assume it’s a lot to do with instinctive bodily rejection of any Magaki-related business) and sit to the side “It’s free reign. Just pick what you want and eat it. There’s too much food for one or two people as is.”

“R…Really?” she blinks. The hope in her glittering blue eyes is unerringly _**pure** _ and utter anathema to all you’ve known. You shrug and gesture to yourself like your scrawniness will prove that you cannot shelve away the feast prepared.

“All I’d like to know is who you are and where I’ve ended up,” you add, chewing on your first mouthful of good food for what felt like months. The question couldn’t possibly be too bold to venture forth with…

“Oh, me? I’m the great pirate Bonne Jenet, leader of the Lilien Knights and you’re aboard our ship. Scourge of the wealthy yachts and cruise ships alike, we take from the rich…”

“And give to yourselves?” you offer with a single eyebrow raised and the tiniest curl of amusement in your lips. The pirate Jenet huffs loudly with a stamp of a high-heeled shoe echoing metallically, glaring at you as her proud stance caves in at the drop of a hat. The gesture carries all the threat of a golden retriever aimlessly smiling at nothing in particular. “Oh, I’m not judging. I can’t say much.”

The woman blinks at you and finds some sliver of courage to approach the table but thankfully none to press your admittedly inviting statement. You idly wonder why she’s so hesitant, but then again your first direct interaction with her was grabbing her arm and glaring at her, and you _don’t_ exactly have entirely human attributes anymore. She chooses a plate that is an array of hearty Central European meats and cheeses and tucks in voraciously, absent of grace. Perhaps it had been a while since she ate something varied, you note as you finish your bowl.

“Mind if I know your name too, pet?” she asks politely, with enough manners to not have half-chewed food in her mouth as she does so. You stare at her for a moment, discerning intention; while it’s easy to assume that she’s extremely dim of mind, such simple naivety will perhaps earn you more trouble if you’re immediately honest with her. She looks like the type to easily divulge anything she’s been told on inquiry. That and you can tell that despite her French name offered she is most decidedly English in origin, so her deception although _annoyingly simple_ is still present… albeit half-heartedly. You peer harder, and she seems to flinch in a self-conscious manner, blue eyes fluttering down at the feast you had prepared, away from your keen crimson reds, and decide you too will hold your cards close to your chest.

“You may call me Shion,” you finally respond, the notion of her calling you Ziyuan is far too _**personal** _ for some reason, and there’s probably little chance she’s got any direct line with those pesky heirs of the flame named Kusanagi and Yagami alike. You still need to figure out whether you’re going to return to your task for Orochi’s sake or whether you’re going to abandon it, but you might need her company for longer as you figure out just where all the chips are sitting on this great game.

As you share some information she seems to summon up all of her lost gusto and beam at you giddily. “Ooooh, that’s a gorgeous name, love! Were you always from Southtown or didja just kinda… end up there? Where ya from?”

You blink. You thought your appearance and name were rather self-explanatory, but it seems she had presumed differently. “China,” is all you’re willing to share, but that is apparently enough for her, never mind the one billion of Chinese natives being scattered around endless combinations of ethnicities and beliefs, and never mind your pseudonym being decidedly un-Chinese. She is going out of her way to prove your estimate of her lack of intelligence absolutely correct.

“We’re always looking to diversify our Knights! Another lady but not from an English-speaking country, ticks a lot of boxes don’tcha think?” she oddly boasts, hands on generous hips like it was meant to be meaningfully commended. You’re actually not sure if you should personally be offended since you had forsaken your humanity and nationality alike, as well as being indifferent to the sex you possess for quite some time now and dressing ambiguously in spite of it, but you’re positive someone else would be extremely furious in your place. Still, the silent stare communicates that offense that you don’t actually have (rather you’re simply bewildered) and she blanches immediately. “Oh, god, I’m sorry! I’ve got a big mouth and not a lot of filter so I trod on a lot of feelings in more polite company.”

You shrug, and finish your dish, quietly rinsing it clean and setting it aside. “Call the rest of your crew and let them eat. I’d like a little bit of meditation time alone.”

You leave before you hear any platitudes and ‘no problem’s out of Bonne Jenet, who goes with your suggestion as you’re just out of earshot and bellows out a call for her Knights. You return to your quarters and close your eyes ignoring the stampede of men to the kitchen, contemplating what situation you’ve managed to appear unto.

* * *

 

In silence, you sit cross-legged holding your knees, closing your grim ruby red eyes and measuring your breathing— _inhale slow, exhale slower_. Trying to reach out to your cohorts in Those From The Past is like reaching into an endless lake of static; they’re out there, it seems, but beyond contact for your meagre rank. You dare look for Magaki, but instead of static it’s a dead void of silence awash with the thick stench of rot and metal confirming your suspicions.

Only now the thought occurs; if you slew Magaki as revenge for his betrayal, then what of your position as one of Orochi’s loyal minions?

Magaki’s death could easily be seen as insubordination on your part, and they may not react so kindly should they discover the full truth of what happened. Perhaps you ought to hatch a plan to prove yourself if they rear their heads—but maybe you can stall for time, and either way it’d be best to recall your attempt at contact. Both you and Magaki have, after all, simply vanished off the face of the planet, and they can’t look for you if you don’t want to be found; you can bide your time. It’s a small consolation, but then there was the matter of—well—wherever the hell you currently were with whoever these idiots you are in the company of.

The boat was still in port, presumably in Southtown as mentioned, which you’re vaguely aware of being located in the United States’ southern states. It’s an impressive vessel, capable of submarine operation as well as sailing on the surface and not at all hampered in speed or capability in either form. It still had an archaic arsenal in the form of a cannonade in port and starboard sides alike, but you wonder if that was a deliberate choice by the lady captain to invest more in evasion rather than offence. On the other hand, the cannonade would do serious property damage as well as grievous physical harm should it be used, so perhaps it did have an element of dissuasion about it. The ship is certainly powerful, but the crew has a lot left to be desired. Indeed, there is a rather broad variation of ages and builds among her men who mostly echo her Eastender London brogue with their own. The physically strongest male you can discern is also an outlier; he sounds like an American through and through, the odd one out among what is essentially the United Kingdom of play-pirates.

And that left Bonne Jenet, the leader of this thick assortment.

Bearing a French name but speaking fluent English with an equally Anglophone tongue tasting of monarchy and other assorted stereotypes, commanding enough wealth to invest in such a flexible vessel but not enough smarts to smoothly wriggle out of delicate situations without some firepower involved; she’s a curious sort to say the very least. Standing tall (taller than you, you note) and given generous curves, golden hair and vivid blue eyes, dimples gently indented when she smiles most broadly (and that she often indulged in), and quite... _pretty_ if you had to reach for such adjectives. It’s easy to assume that her physical charm and foreign lilt won her many fans, though obviously with your current set of priorities such things have failed to affect you meaningfully ~~(will it change…? You’re strangely not so sure of yourself)~~. In any case, she’s happened upon a vast wealth that obviously funds her dubious expeditions, and her wallet is a useful one should you opt to reunite with your superiors in the name of Orochi.

Your eyelids languidly open up and note that it’s the dead of night, and your meditation has left you sitting exceedingly stiff; a few hours have passed. With a few cracks of complaining limbs aside, you’re limber and upright, nocturnal and almost at your peak level of energy before the mishap of falling between continuums and dimensions alike. You almost want to test your newfound energy on rather unscrupulous methods, the very thought of which powers your movement out of your room and discerning the trail to the leader of the Lilien Knights’ room. With precision you ease the door open without eking any sort of noise from it whatsoever, sliding in with naught but a whisper on the wind.

Your eyes adjust to the slightly greater darkness in the master bedroom of sorts, and you can see Jenet’s proudly built form splayed across a large bed with the only soundtrack being that of her gentle snore. As far as you can tell, she’s fallen asleep in her clothes. How careless, you sneer, silently closer to the bed now. A giddy sensation courses through your veins, awakened and eager with malevolent intent as you recall some old favourites; the humble stretching rack, augmented into your personal speciality of the water torture. What a fun method for wrangling information about those who hold the Sacred Treasures! You sigh with genuine fondness of those times spent exacting grim pain on ordinary civilians, and regret doing so immediately, as Jenet seems to respond, shifting around.

Now your focus returns to the so-called ‘great pirate’ in her slumber, and you begin to doubt if she really is as vapid up top as she appears to act, further fuelling your malevolent intent. Does she know anything of Kyo Kusanagi, Iori Yagami, or even Chizuru Kagura? Or even the wildcard Ash Crimson, who seems to have his own agenda. Your ruby eyes turn bloody with ominous suspicion, and you can feel the gentle tug of the fabric of time as you will it to spit out your trusted rope dart to truss her up. You’re going to find out if she does or doesn’t know, but you’ll definitely discover when her breaking point will be—her Knights are all human and a thousand times feebler, so it’s not like they’ll be able to fight you off--

“Er, Shion, pet? What’re you doing?”

You freeze, a hand extended towards her neck as your other locks in position for summoning your weaponry, eyes flaring wide open like a deer in headlights. You can pick out her eyes fluttering open and fixed entirely upon you, warily sitting up but somehow not overreacting when it’d be a perfectly valid reaction. Deciding not to make any sudden moves lest that exacerbate the situation, you slowly move your hands back down to your sides, albeit still frozen to where you stand.

“Were you lookin’ for my phone or something? You’re like a jealous girlfriend poking through my stuff!” Jenet giggles, cutting through the tension (at least from her point of view presumably) and shaking her head with a yawn “What a wake-up call; I’m not even into girls, hah.”

She must actually take everything at literal face value; that’s your only explanation that you can drum up as you continue to stand listlessly by as she stretches out her arms and smiles up at you. You’re still not annoyed by the mild mistake in identity, but if she insists on it in broad daylight where there’s no excuse for such errors in your physical appearance, well…

“You alright? I mean, jokes aside, y’gotta be up in here for a reason, yeah?”

“Mmm,” you murmur with a single nod “Couple of questions.”

“Alright pet, fire away.”

“Are we still docked in Southtown?”

“Aye, we’re in the piers. Why, did you want to go runnin’ around eh?”

You idly tug at a blue braid. Not quite, but to have your feet on stable land would be nice. The real purpose is more along the lines of reconnaissance, to suss out what’s transpired since Magaki’s death and just what’s been going on. “I don’t travel much. It’d be nice to have a look around.”

The answer satisfies her. Bonne Jenet grins from ear to ear and falls back onto her bed in another stretch “Sorted! Something to do for tomorrow, we’ll hit up Pao Pao Café and enjoy the sun. First we’ll have a nice kip first so we’re refreshed and ready.”

It’ll suffice. You can meaningfully salvage information then; for now, you retire to your room.


	4. Southtown's Finest Café

4: BONNE JENET

The sun spears through the vivid blue sky, matching calm and deeper blues below; the perfect summer day and no better way to spend it than aimlessly wandering Southtown. You weave your fingers through your golden hair and laugh gently as you shake it to and fro, feeling the heat envelop your body like a cosy hug. A glance behind you informs you that your Lilien Knights have taken it upon themselves to see to the maintenance of the ship, and you’re fine with that—in fact it suits you better, and besides, if there’s trouble they can give you a bell on the phone.

So, that left you with your newest recruit, as you both hop off the ship onto the wooden pier into the bustling city, out of the Port and straight to East Island for the original Pao Pao experience. _Heel-toe, heel-toe, heel-toe_ ; your shoes click musically against the warm pavement with Shion trailing behind you as cars occasionally cruise by. It’s weird; you’re there strutting like you always do but you can kind of sense Shion almost slithering about? With a glance you can safely shelve that odd feeling since your very eyes can see the slighter whippet of a lass walk like a normal person. She sure gives the impression that she sticks to the shadows a lot more though…

“Hey baby, why don’t you come back with me and bring your cute friend?!”

Oh, you almost forgot about the catcalling macho types here, thought process immediately shattered. Hmm, they were a dying breed right? Just as you opt to respond, he’s gone in the dingy banger of a car honking away, though just as you think you’re in the clear another one fires by bellowing “Show us your tits!”

You nonchalantly roll your eyes—water off a duck’s back as Daddy used to say—and watch them disappear into the urban horizon. Shion walks up to you with her pretty if unearthly bloody red eyes widened and confused “You… You **let** them say such hideous words to you?”

“Weeeeeeeeeell,” your sentence begins admittedly half-assed “ _Nnnnot_ exactly? More like, if I could give ‘em a piece of my mind I’d do it, but I’d rather not be road kill yeah? Besides, they’re obviously cowards if they can’t say that to my face and not in the passenger’s side of his best mate’s ride, heh!” Your reference only gives you reason to smirk, passing cleanly over Shion’s pretty little head without any hint of a connection. Not a big pop music fan then, huh? Oh well, no time for hanging about, there was a café with your name on it! Your pace picks up again, and Shion follows, humming and hawing over something still.

“They must truly be cowards then if they can’t utter obscenities to your face, shying from consequences,” she murmurs, rubbing her chin pensively “I hope you’ll punish them accordingly.”

“Oh, they’re probably lost causes as far as making ‘em act with manners goes. Having no emotional depth’ll do that to a fellow. Any of them get enough bravado to ask me out and I just humour him until he calls me a slag or something.” You pout and note that that’s been a relative constant. “Then I slap him and tell him he won’t be getting any life partners that way.”

Shion looks equal parts disgusted and baffled, furrowing her brows in trying to comprehend what was essentially a typical night out and about in a city. Pao Pao’s neon sign comes into reach, with the gentle lapping of the waves slightly louder. “You… You have to put up with _this?!_ ”

“Ehhh, sorta. I mean I don’t get any guff while I’m in here cos this is kinda like my local. It’s a nice lil’ haven—I think you’ll like it here too. Might catch a few ol’ pals of mine!” You’re excited, but your new friend ( ~~you’re sure you can call Shion a friend by now~~ ) is apprehensive. “C’mon in, I’ll introduce ya.”

You fling the doors open, taking Shion’s hand and dragging her in, waving at the bar to the left hand side with a loud “Coo-ee! Hi loves, I’m back with a friend! Oh- oh my **_god_ ** is that you Kingy?”

Behind the bar oozing tonnes of class that the rest of the regular Pao Pao goers would never see in their lifetime stood the effortlessly cool ‘King’, flicking short blonde hair out of her eyes as she cleans out a pint glass, nodding in your direction with a smirk “Richard made a bet that I couldn’t hold this place together for a night, so I told him to run my bar further downtown instead.”

“Dick’s a cheeky bastard,” you quip as you approach the bar with Shion in tow “How’re you finding it?”

King spares a wary glance for Shion but continues to multitask while conversing with you “Oh, it’s honestly rather easy; it’s helped by today being a busy enough turnout for all the regulars and some others from further afield—I think Terry’s invited some friends.”

You squeal with excitement—you’ve always had a substantial crush on the big, strong American fighter even if you didn’t really feel like pursuing it actively, not when Mary’s keeping him happy. “Is he here now?”

“Mmm, he stepped out for a moment to fetch Kim and a couple others. Hey, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” King counters you, nodding towards Shion as she pulls a pint for you—she already knows your order without you ever… huh, Richie must’ve finally put up the list of regular’s orders behind the counter. Shion flinches away from King’s weirdly suspicious stare which you’re not exactly sure you understand, so you just parse the info before you as Shion being a shy little thing and King being a little bit too extrovert for the poor pet. “This is Shion, I found her on the beach a couple of days past. A new Lilien Knight in training! Say hello, wontcha?”

You nudge the blue-braided girl and she jolts upright and mumbles a hello. King shrugs and rolls her eyes, topping off your pint and serving it to you. “She seems quiet—here’s your usual, Jennie—but it’s hard to blame her in this madhouse, ah? You’re making her go from 0 to full socialising; that would jar anyone, no?”

You make a dismissive hum as you’re already midway through a hearty gulp of lager as she asks, swallowing with a wave of your free hand “Ahh—that’s the stuff!—better to jump into the deep end if you wanna learn how to swim!”

“Jennie,” King grumbles dourly. You grin wider, remembering she hated maritime related puns out of you, but what were you supposed to say? Your life was on the seven seas now, after all. “Just try to go a little easier on her?”

She frowns slightly, attention caught by Terry Bogard, his squeeze Mary and their friends Kim Kaphwan and the Sakazaki siblings huddling into the Café, a thing that you noticed about milliseconds beforehand with a giddy squeal and a furious wave of your arm “Teeez! AY, _TEZ_! Lookit all you, haven’t seen any of you in ages!”


	5. Rising to the Challenge

5: SHION

It was bad enough that you could almost sense this King woman’s wariness of you as a palpable knowledge that you were nothing but bad news to all of them… at least if you were still loyal to Magaki of course. But now, you can feel a pair of eyes drilling into the back of your head pouring with suspicion, as their owner draws closer amid the gaggle of Jenet’s friends ~~(or were they acquaintances? Jenet never particularly cared to draw such a line from what you can tell)~~. Normally you would scoff and coldly remove such offending persons, but you’ve severed yourself from the connections of Those From The Past and you still haven’t found a grounding position to steady yourself. Amiable chatter blows over your head as King gets herself involved with Jenet and company, which just about suits you fine, until…

“Alright lads, this ‘ere’s Shion. Washed up near the pier so me n’ me Knights took care of her and the first thing she does for us is make a whopper buffet! I dunno bout you lot, but I think she’ll fit in just fine.” Her arm grabs around your shoulders and pulls you close to her in a friendly, sideways embrace like she’s showing you off. _What’s there to show off?_ You can now discern the source of the vehement glaring; coming from a man approaching middle age wearing taekwondo uniform, and it’s enough to keep your glimpses of this band of friends brief and fleeting, otherwise fixing your stare to the floor. Jenet squeezes you closer as if to show some vague support, and she smells like vanilla, roses and lavender and you can just faintly detect the lager smell but it doesn’t disrupt the strangely comforting perfume she wears. You’re now too bewildered by the apparent feelings drummed up by your sense of smell to be particularly caught off guard by this taekwondo martial artist.

Terry offers you a polite smile and nod, Mary chips in a ‘Nice to meet you,’ which Ryo Sakazaki echoes but his sister ( ~~as briskly explained by Jenet when gesturing to each in turn for their introduction to you~~ ) Yuri is wrinkling her nose as if trying to work something out, and Kim Kaphwan is the name of the man trying to set you alight with his furious glaring. Jenet still hasn’t let you go as she asks the American blond duo about their trip around the Appalachians, and you have no idea why but you’re strangely beginning to _like_ this foreign notion of an embrace that she has about you still, when before you’d claw your skin off. Magaki would be turning in whatever grave he was left in to know such oddities transpiring in his absence.

“Aw man, Jennie-- are you sure it’s a good idea to recruit flotsam?” Mary gently chides Jenet, rolling her eyes and smiling good naturedly with her hands on her hips. “Thought that shit was bad luck.”

“Aw c’mon Mary it’s not like she roundhoused a fucking **_albatross_**!” Jenet roars back, laughing at her own joke before staring at you in mild alarm. “You didn’t, did you?”

You manage to find enough composure to look utterly incredulous at such a claim and reply “Last time I checked, I don’t fight birds while completely unconscious.”

“Good enough for me,” she beams at you, dimples framing her smile.

“Not for me,” the man known as Kim Kaphwan grumbles, narrowing his eyes and pointing at you accusatorily “You reek of malevolence. There’s blood on your hands and in your eyes, and you mean nothing but bad luck, even without such superstitions.”

The woman known as Mary flings her arms upwards sighing as Terry pinches the bridge of his nose “Dude, _c’mon_ , not this shit again.”

Of course, while they may all seem exasperated, _you_ are terrified. Has he really managed to detect your former allegiance simply by looking at you? Maybe it’s just that your eyes are freakishly red, and you’re perhaps unusual looking—but the fighter is looking so venomously at you it’s almost like he can indeed smell the stench of Orochi-inspired evil you’ve partook in over the… years? You’re not even sure how the passage of time even works any more given your allegiance to time travellers, after all. You continue to stand in perturbed silence, shying away from his direct challenge.

“Ugh-- sorry pet-- Kim has this amazing habit of declaring people ‘evil’ or whatever,” Jenet explains feebly, looking annoyed by the mild hubbub that this man is starting to cause. King leans over the counter between you and Kim and grumbles at him “Hey, mind terribly kicking up the fuss outside? I’m not losing this bet with Richard. Ryo, can you make sure if anything starts, it’s beyond the doors?”

Ryo nods, and his sister seems to have struck gold in her thought process and pulls out her phone, hurriedly texting and shimmying in behind the bar as if to isolate herself for such a task.

Terry weaves a flat hand through his blond locks and makes a pained expression, as if trying to gently toe the line of neutrality between you and the now antagonistic Kim “To the guy’s credit he’s been right like, 8 times outta 10. When he’s not gauging people’s morality he’s rehabbing the worse ones into society.”

“I take pride in it,” Kim adds, folding his beefy arms, before continuing his stare “Well then, what do you have to say for yourself? I can’t let you just traipse off with Ms Behrn here—“

“Kim _for fuck sake_ I have a pirate name y’can use!”

“—because you might cause her far bigger problems down the line. You may be beyond redemption.”

Jenet is holding you now with both arms protectively, angling you away from the moral vigilante “Come _off_ it Kim, I found her on a bloody beach half drowned and you think she’s going to spit the apocalypse or something?!”

You inhale deeply and murmur quietly “Please let go of me; if it’s a challenge he’s issuing, I may as well prove myself to him and to you alike.”

“Well, if anything, Shion’s not taking shit lying down,” Mary hums, leaning against the bar towards King “Can I get a glass of water? Terry and I are trying to be good since we’re gonna go on a little trek soon.”

The pirate reluctantly releases you, appearing incredibly concerned about what was about to transpire; it’s a luxury that you’ve never known before, when Those From The Past only cared about what you could offer them and _oh how you **strove** to excel_ so that they’d give you a _pittance_ of gratitude for your work. Not a single one of them cared for your wellbeing, simply that you would be in action on their demand, so this was… _this was **nice**_ , if entirely unusual to you. It’d be nice to prove something to someone who seemed to give a modicum of a damn about you as a person, for a change.

“Sir, I accept your challenge,” you respond, polite and even, casually returning his hard look “If it’s a fight you want, you’ll get it. Shall we?”

As you leave, Terry roars a declaration to the punters about a fight about to happen. A few make interested responses and begin to shuffle out towards the entrance in a bid to watch your duel with Kim Kaphwan. Your first real audience, you note, and you smile slightly knowing you won’t disappoint them, confidence assured in your hitherto dormant fighting ability. This will be the best possible warm up you could possibly receive after your sojourn, and you limber up in the streets, eager for a taste of battle. Kim does the same, as Jenet walks out with Terry in tow to operate as some form of official.

“Aight, Kim we’re going by tourney rules—you know what they’re like. Shion, I’ll run through real quick for you: two rounds, if you can’t get up or you don’t get to your feet within 10 seconds that’s the round lost to you. Though, uh, you wanna go two rounds or what?”

You smile serenely as you fall into your stance, feeling much more at home when combat beckons “I’ll only need one.”

Terry blinks, glancing over at Kim who scoffs about arrogance as he jogs on the spot, rotating his legs and hopping into his own taekwondo stance “Alright kid, if you’re sure. One round it is, first to drop their opponent into a position where they can’t continue from, wins. Let’s GO!”

With a roar of his kiai, Kim hurdles towards you at breakneck speed, spinning once into an overhead axe kick down onto your head. Like clockwork your reflexes easily pull you out of harm’s way, and the rush fuels your flurry of vicious punches to Kim’s gut working your way up to his lower ribcage, sending him hurtling back. There’s a chorus of oohs and aahs from the locals, and you spare a glance for the bystanders, noting curiosity in the Americans’ eyes as well as what you could deduce as shock from Jenet. Why shocked? You assume it’s because she mightn’t have expected your ability to be as such. The pondering is shortlived as Kim shouts himself back up into his stance, snarling “Perhaps I’ve underestimated you, but hear me now: I will **not** tolerate an evildoer in my presence!”

Old habits die hard as you just grin at his threats and roll your shoulders back in expectant glee, just thoroughly enjoying the thrill of a fight for what felt like the first time in an eternity. You throw yourself to the ground in time to avoid the flying kick Kim flies at you with, knowing you probably wouldn’t have a functioning face if that was allowed to connect. You roll back and stand, cricking your neck side to side and pondering your options, watching him return and slowly draw closer.

With snarls he swings powerful kicks at you, high, mid, low alike, and you seamlessly avoid the high kicks, leap over any sweep he attempts, and deflect any midsection shots he attempts. The last one you opt to grab his leg, tug him close into a one-inch punch that sends him tumbling back once more. You can tell he’s hurting, but you’re only getting started. Terry’s jaw is set in a grim frown, and Jenet is slack-jawed in awe. You focus, and the fabric of time answers, following your outstretched hand with a flurry of darts that vanish on impact leaving naught but a stinging pain in the martial artist. He staggers back, and it gives you that extra time for an opening to tug once more on the dimensional pocket that follows you around; before you know it, your trusty rope dart is finally in your hands and it sings as you begin to spin it around. _Momentum is the key_.

Yuri Sakazaki seems to gasp as she recalls something, from behind her brother Ryo’s burly orange gi-clad shoulder, hurriedly calling someone on her phone. You pay it little heed as you engage Kim in a flurry of weighted rope dart swings, breaking his guard and wearing him down until he crumples to the floor. As your killing instinct kicks in automatically and you attempt to follow through to end his life, you find yourself face first in Terry’s broad bomber-jacket.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough! Shion wins! Hey, Kim, are you okay?”

The jolt dislodges you from your automated process, jarring you back into reality as you watch Terry carefully coax Kim back into consciousness, and the derailing is sufficient enough to leave you standing listless and confused. Still, you’ve won the fight, so that must count for _something_.


	6. Shion vs Kim Kaphwan

6: JENET

**Holy _shit_.**

Shion just wrecked Kim Kaphwan in front of your eyes without so much as batting an eyelid—and you had so much damned trouble even matching Kim’s two sons in a sparring fight! Not just that though, but she managed to pull a rope dart out of absolutely fucking nowhere! Maybe Kim was right; there was much more to this little whippet of a girl than you figured. What the hell were you supposed to think, though? You were brought up to simply take what you got from the surface and never to worry yourself into a storm of second-guessing and paranoia, but this… well it was enough to get Yuri screeching in her native tongue to the hero of the day Kyo Kusanagi, almost as soon as the rope dart business occurred. Admittedly you weren’t too sure; you were too busy being transfixed by how Shion seemed to fight as smooth as silk and as effortlessly as you might pick up a cuppa and extend your pinky finger.

You watch Terry help up the battered Korean TKD master and murmur a weak joke to lift his spirits, and you figure it might be a good time to help the buffer between the two combatants and diffuse whatever was left of the high tension.

“Pet, what the fuck was all that? That was _**amazing**_! Er, sorry Kim, but I wasn’t expecting Shion to knock you on your snot like that.” You offer a sheepish shrug and a smile at the dour older man, who continues to dust himself off. Meanwhile, Shion echoes your shrug albeit in a more indifferent, silent manner. “C’mon mate, that’s not something anyone here sees every day.”

“Neither is fire when it comes from people’s hands,” Yuri quickly interjects with a smug grin as she joins your little crowd, topped off with a cheeky wink.

“Yeah well that shit is old hat once you see like 5 guys do it in all colours of the fucking rainbow,” you retort with a roll of your eyes. You almost needed two hands to count the amount of people with the command of fire, and you needed two hands to beat the crap of one particular pyro for all his irritating _'rosbif’_ comments in your direction. Sadly you weren’t going to get that opportunity, despite your vivid memory; people just dismiss such a fighter’s existence as hearsay. “Anyway, what were you talking to Kyo about? I heard you rambling on, there.”

“I just remembered him telling me about someone in like, the previous tournament having the power to pull stuff out of literally nowhere,” Yuri replies, now wide-eyed and a little spooked about something. You’re puzzled since she seems very alarmed and the description’s pretty vague; at this rate in the King of Fighters tournament there could be a small acapella band of people breaking dimensions on a whim when there was enough for an orchestra of fire manipulators as is.

“So wait, was this the one I was in?”

“Yeah that’s the one. You didn’t get to the final, right?”

“Ugh,” you growl, furrowing your brow “Let’s not rub that in, awright missus?”

“Okay, okay, sheesh,” Yuri responds quickly, eager not to tread on a sensitive spot any longer than she has to “Anyways, you know Kyo, Iori and Shingo got to the end of that, right? Kyo came back talking about some punk who could pull a spear, a rope dart and fire invisible arrows outta nowhere. And that punk had a freaky boss who looked like he fell out of a horror movie, so that’s cool too.”

“Like Shion was totes in the middle of all that,” you snort with a hand on your hip and waving the other dismissively “Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves, mmkay?”

Yuri puffs up her cheeks and glowers at you “C’mon! I just thought Kyo might be interested to hear that after what happened. Jeez.”

Well, when explained like that you suppose it wasn’t really that much harm after all. You let the point slide even if you think it wasn’t gonna really travel any further, and turn to Shion now who is staring into space “Ay, you alright pet?”

“Oh, fine.” She sure didn’t look fine as far as you can tell; her body looked taut like piano wire, pectorals and all, under the yellow fabric of her top ~~(wait, _pectorals_ …?)~~ and ready to spring into another fight at the drop of a hat. “I’m fine. I wasn’t expecting to fight someone today, would you?”

“Oh, pfft, no. Not at my local at least. But hey, you showed your stuff and y’proved Kim wrong, so—“

“Ms Behrn, don’t just _assume_ this makes everything fine and dandy! If I were you, I’d keep an eye out,” the losing fighter grimaces, hand on your shoulder and spinning you to face him. He’s dead serious about Shion being evil or whatever, huh.

“Hey Terry? Kyo wants to talk to you on the phone!” Yuri calls, patting Terry’s burly arm for attention. He carefully plucks the cell out of her hand and nudges Kim over with him to huddle about something or other, with Yuri insistently listening in. Whatever, maybe this was too much excitement for Shion for one day; maybe you should just pack it in for the night.

“Ah, fack it anyway. C’mon pet, any more lingering and I think you might end up in another fight at this rate.” You can hear a whisper of ‘I could do without another’ but you’re already dragging Shion back home to your trusty boat.


	7. Bluebloods & Blue Braids

CHAPTER 7: SHION

-

In spite of your journey through the innermost workings of the universe, _after all this_ , you’ve still managed to find yourself in the thick of this King of Fighters mess. If this was irony or coincidence at work you’re not sure of the details, but the reaction is the same: a hollow feeling of dread and your safety and anonymity within the Lilien Knights not so guaranteed, especially not when the heirs of the Seal were aware you still roamed (or someone very like you if their deduction wasn’t instantaneous). Time was running out. The flame wielders of Kusanagi and Yagami alike were probably going to pursue your trail and finish what Magaki attempted to start.

You stare out at the horizon where the sun begins its descent, illuminating the high rise buildings with brilliant gold and vermillion alike, letting your legs drape over the starboard as you sit on the edge of the ship. A couple of hours have passed since you fought Kim Kaphwan, and in the meanwhile you’ve cooked another feast for the Lilien Knights, still presumably eating below deck. In spite of that fact, you hear footsteps anyway and glance to the source.

Bonne Jenet beams happily in your direction and takes a seat beside you. She must’ve been eager to talk to you about something, otherwise she would’ve savoured her food more “Tasty dinner you whipped up for us, but that’s a given with your skill, eh?”

You wrinkle your nose. The mixture of vanilla and roses returns and your coiled springs relax somewhat; whether it’s the scent or Jenet’s actual presence you’re not sure and quite frankly you’re too _**afraid** _ to find out if it’s the latter. Heavens forbid you might be becoming… _attached?_ What a foreign notion to you, this business of being emotionally attached in any form is completely new territory. Up until recently you’d been happy enough to be in solitude, the idea of anything intimate bizarre. “Hey, you still bothered over what ol’ man Kim said?”

“Huh?” Well, in a manner of speaking. “…To a degree.”

“ _Baaaah!_ ” And there’s her arm over your shoulders again, giving you a gentle encouraging shake “Don’t mind’m. Look, lemme put this all into perspective—hell for a sec I was a lil worried m’self! But then I realised—well, we found you washed up, got the sand out of your hair and water out of your lungs, and the first thing you did was cook a massive dinner for all of us outta nowhere! Like hell anyone evil or whatever he’s on about would do anything like that!”

She smiles so _sincerely_ at you that it’s disarming, and when you had no problem matching Magaki’s cold, hateful stare this one is making you flinch and shy away. You’ve never been faced with such genuine goodness in someone’s heart, focused on you in such a trusting, open manner. It’s completely unknown to you, uncharted territory, ~~_but you cannot shake the very startling feeling in the depth of your heart coming to **appreciate** all of it_~~. It brings with it a curious grasp of foreign warmth around what you thought was your stony excuse of a heart, and a real danger of it being dislodged from its isolationist prison. In the face of it all, you can only glance away and murmur “I… I suppose I _did_ do that.”

“Yeah! Y’did so that proves you’re a good person— and we’re all still mad grateful for it—and for y’still being willing to cook. And you even fought Kim to prove y’wanna stay with us too, so least I can do is officially induct ya into the Lilien Knights,” Jenet states, patting your back gently and winking at you. “I’m sorry I didn’t do that sooner, my bad. I’ve no excuse; I’ve been so looking forward to having another fine lady aboard!”

 _Really_? You just roll your eyes; there almost seemed to be no point in correcting her at this stage. The silence goads her into adding more “It’s gonna be so great! We’ll get to chat about cute boys, plan a course of action when raiding any billionaire yachts or mansion parties, and just—it’ll be good fun to have someone I can confide in for a change.”

“Confide in?” you repeat, quirking a slight brow “Please consider, Ms Jenet, that I don’t really know _you_ , just your seafaring persona. Unless that’s all there is to you, which I doubt.”

Well, you didn’t really think there was that much beyond her surface appearance, but really she had to have been raised in the United Kingdom at least and you wanted your presumption to be confirmed, damn it.

“For a start, what’s your vendetta against the wealthy?” You make a face, awkwardly realising the oxymoronic quality of your words “…I realise that seems like a very _pointless_ question, but—“

“Ha! Nah, I getcha. Honestly—“ And now it was Jenet’s turn to look sheepish, a tiny blush hidden under the vivid colours of the sunset “This uh… I don’t really have a personal vendetta; I mean I’m no Robin Hood or anything like that. God I’m going to sound so stupid—okay, right so you hear my accent, yeah? Take a wild guess where I’m from.”

“Well it’s certainly not France,” you retort, still mystified about the ‘Bonne Jenet’ nickname’s etymology.

“Obviously! So I’m a West London sort of girl, and my parents are well-off, typical Conservative types and lived around Kensington n’ Chelsea, and mum’s got some old English nobility and daddy’s a successful CEO related to some old Prussian guys or something—my surname’s a little German as far as our genealogist could tell—so you can imagine we’re pretty wealthy. Now I dunno how much y’know about that kinda life, but it’s _fucking **boring**_ and everyone’s as compelling as plywood with a gold leaf coat.” She wildly gesticulates and makes a guttural huff to indicate just how awful the very thought of her previous lifestyle was.

You can’t really stop yourself from betraying just how amused you are at such a description with a faint chuckle; it’s almost along the lines of something you might have thought up on your own terms. Who would’ve thought you’d be bonding with her over that? _When have you even laughed at anything benign before?_ “I can only imagine how truly riveting your past company was,” you roll your eyes with a smirk.

“God, I know! Idiots, the lot of them!” Jenet stops to giddily guffaw and her beaming becomes brighter at you “Hah, you’re a lot more interesting than a whole mansion of these toff plonkers that’s for definite. Anyway, so I wanted something more exciting, and I didn’t really want to be skiving off mum and dad’s bank accounts like a crap sponge, so I just saved up what I could here and there while learning a little bit of Savate on the side, bought a boat that could convert into a submarine and… started up the Lilien Knights!”

“…So you did it out of _boredom_ and to not bother your parents for money?” You finally comprehend, and the absolutely gargantuan leap in logic is so bafflingly **vast** that it’s both commendable and _**incredibly stupid**_ in itself. It’s actually _endearing_ , somehow.

“Yep, pretty much,” Jenet answers timidly, looking at you with apprehension as if she was expecting some kind of reprimand or some other form of judgemental response. You let the fact sink in some more, and your brain struggles to manage a cognitive response to really encompass just how amazed and baffled you are to such a string of events making Jenet who she was. Eventually, you just settle for a simple albeit meagre utterance of “… _fascinating_.”

She reverts back into her more brazen attitude and roars out a hearty laugh, wrenching you over in a half, side hug with her arm “That’s a lofty compliment comin’ from you! I mean y’still haven’t told me anything about yourself—like, not in the kinda depth I’ve just done.”

“Maybe another time,” you murmur enigmatically, trying to already figure out how to convert any suspicious activity of yours in Orochi’s favour into something light you can handwave away. You’ve already aroused interest and great wariness in Jenet’s other cohorts, and while Jenet is… somewhat dim to it, she will catch on quickly when blatant fact is laid out before her. You’re not really sure you can stall that meaningfully either; to do so would invite that same suspicion within Jenet twice as fast.

“Awright, s’cool,” she replies, opting not to push her luck and gently nudges the conversation to more light-hearted and meaningless territory… or so you think. Her fingers nudge the end of your signature blue-dyed braids “Hey, mind if I fix these up for you? They’ve been getting a touch loose n’ wonky after your fight with Kim back there.”

What’s the worst that could happen? Whatever hesitation rises is drowned out swiftly by your common sense scoffing at anything dramatic occurring.

“Huh? Oh… ah, hmm. Very—Very well,” you acquiesce albeit warily as you untie your braids and let your dyed hair cascade in gentle waves. Jenet shifts around, focusing intently on the task now at hand, immaculately shaped brows furrowed slightly as she rakes her fingers through your hair and murmuring compliments about how silky soft your locks are. The term ‘relaxing’ isn’t one you often find applying to your life’s circumstances, but right now whatever this was sure came close to it. It’s almost meditative, and Jenet is doing her utmost to avoid tugging too hard or muddling the blue with your natural darker brown hair. As for you, you’re watching her slight frown of concentration, and the faintest freckles on her nose hidden amid faintly tanned skin, and now you’re realising you’re staring a little too hard when she catches your eye. “You alright pet?”

“Fine! Fine.”

She giggles, continuing to diligently braid your hair with a markedly more impish look in her eyes “Heh, _I dunno_ , that’s the kinda look I’d be giving that Rock Howard chap whenever I got t’glimpse him!”

“Rock Howard?” The surname’s familiar somehow, but with the faint tether you try to throw out, it latches to no memory leaving you short. Of course, Jenet is more than happy to inform.

“ _Rock Howard_! That young guy Terry’s been looking after? He’s pretty cute, not that Terry’s lookin’ shabby himself. ‘Fraid I’ve got myself a type, so it seems. Tall, blond and ripped apparently’s right up my alley.” ( ~~You get a sense of disappointment. Why disappointment? The mind boggles.~~ ) She neatly arranges the tie in place, the beads in their correct order over them and carefully tugs the braid taut in a manner that doesn’t pull on your scalp but instead secure the braid. Jenet breathes a sigh of ‘job done’ before carefully moving onto the second braid “Any boys you’ve fancied? Got a type? I’m overdue some light gossip…”

**What.**

Oh, oh wait that’s what she’s interested in…? Well if you were to be truly honest you had no interest in anyone, but with the most recent string of events and this very same pirate socialite somehow rousing a spark in what you thought was your cold dead heart—maybe you’re not entirely closed off to such things? What did you have to lose? “I’m… I’m afraid I’ve no such interest in men.”

“Women, then? Because th-that’s fine too y’know!” She interjects so quickly with the faintest stammer in her voice, like she’s feeling overtly guilty of having such a passing interest, before shortly confirming it to some degree “I know I said I don’t like girls, but I’d be lying if I said I don’t have the odd ladycrush from time to time. Ever seen Vanessa? Striking lass for sure; flame red hair, plenty of experience, all cool n’ mysterious too-- bit out of my league though.”

“You’re blushing,” you observe idly, watching as already faintly visible freckles drown again in a sea of claret in her cheeks.

“Oh _c’mon_! I can’t be sharing all my gossip, gimme a break here!” she guffaws, gently slapping your shoulder before taking a hold of your blue dyed hair to finish braiding “Surely you like someone?”

“Not exactly; I… I like someone, but I can’t say that’s grounded in romance, at least not yet. She has treated me far better than anyone else in my life has done, so that’s a good start, I assume.” It’s a bit of a meagre attempt to blindside her whilst also somewhat telling the truth; you don’t feel right lying but you’re not wholly in the mood to divulge the full details either, especially when you’re essentially talking about Jenet to her face, and you’re still having difficulty parsing these precise feelings. She seems to have bought it for the moment.

“Oooh, well, maybe I can find someone nice to set you up with in the meanwhile. Dunno if Yuri’s interested in girls though,” the blonde ponders, pouting and furrowing her brow in thought. Of course, you have absolutely zero interest in Yuri Sakazaki but you’ll let Jenet stew on a thought stemming from benevolent intentions for now. The English native continues to hum and braid your hair until the task is done, smiling proudly at her work “There we are! All prim and proper; it’s like you didn’t get into fisticuffs in the first place.”

“Thank you,” you earnestly reply, bowing your head towards her.

Jenet seems caught off guard, giggling nervously “Aw hey, stoppit. Nothing big, just wanted to fix your hair. Right…!” She stands, stretching out her arms upwards and fanning them outwards sluggishly, not unlike a reclining feline. It’s only now that you really notice that Jenet isn’t a wilting wallflower in physical build; she’s got some definition in her arms and legs that could certainly pack a credible force to be reckoned with. The fact sinks in when you take out the hand she offers you, and she hauls you one-armed to your feet in one powerful go with an innocent smile. Sparring is something you’re now going to think twice about…

“You wanna listen in on our top secret Lilien Knights meeting?” she beams at you from what little height difference in her favour there is “One of my boys said he had a lead on a yacht party straying a little bit too much from the Caribbean.” Oh? This should be an interesting point of research; are they as ineffectual as they seem? You’ve always pondered just how well the Lilien Knights do under stressful situations, since Jenet’s friends don’t exactly treat her troupe as a complete joke. You nod silently, and she beckons you to follow her below deck.


	8. Planning the Heist

8: JENET

-

Nothing like the prospect of a new heist to get the blood flowing! You hum a tune you heard at a Soho club once before; a constant pulsating drum beat to get the dancers energised would serve your own nerves well. Not that you’re awfully nervous, more so that you can already feel the adrenaline priming itself for when you take the hit to the high seas! You crack your knuckles, the sound chiming in with the clanging of your heels against the steel halls of your ship.

“Boys! In to the meeting room we go, Lao’s got some dirt on our target.”

The bulkiest member of the Knights trudged in to the designated room, with a selection of tabloid pictures as well as choice paparazzi snaps from what coastal area the yacht came within view of “Got it here boss.”

Your crew continue to file in, some with their equipment, and line the table. Lao tosses the photos on top, fanning out with little fanfare. Another Knight cracks open a laptop after peering hard at the pictures and starts typing away, and you’re pretty damn glad you made sure to install signal interceptors for the poor chap to thieve some Wi-Fi from satellites and neighbouring coastlines. Another is hurriedly scribbling information on a notepad, from whatever he can garner on the screen over his shoulder. A shadow out of the corner of your eye filters by and you notice it’s just Shion slipping in to watch.

“So, what do we have in our sights?” you ask, leaning against the table with your arms locked straight and your face set into a confident smirk.

“Medium personal cruise yacht, obviously much bigger to civvies like our guest over there,” the Knight with the laptop starts, frowning at the screen’s various sections while gesturing towards Shion vaguely. “Looks like some spoilt brats taking their dad’s boat out for some ill-advised trip crossing international waters. Loaded too, there’s a lotta bank sitting on there still, since the idiots forgot to put that in their pet bank accounts judging by how much they’re splashing out.”

“Right, right. You have the model of the boat yet?” you ask, standing upright with a furrowed brow, pondering where exactly to begin your plan of action “Surely we’ve got a serial number and a brand to start picking out weaknesses?”

“Almost got it boss, just a few more minutes!”

“Alright, who’re we dealing with?” You change pace, looking to Lao again as he starts sifting through the scattered photos “Some fashion designers, overpaid pop singers—“

“Athena Asamiya?” you quip with a smirk. Lao catches the joke with a stony-eyed smile and shakes his head.

“Nah, there’s oil magnates and at least two sleazy politicians on board. They’re pouring wine reserves out like tap water, swimmin’ in money, that sorta stuff. Plenty of platinum and gold lining the place; from what I can tell it’s one of the oil barons’ ships.”

“Okay, I got the name of the model, we’re printing out blueprints!”

You punch your palm and chuckle eagerly, a glint in your eye “Now we’re making progress. From what the photos are tellin’ me, it’s looking like a standard yacht for that price range. Not a lot of modifications beyond aesthetics—someone tell me otherwise when shit doesn’t match, awright?”

“Yes boss!” the Knights chorus at you with a salute. A couple scurry around before laying the coveted blueprints down. You pick up the photographs and begin peering over them, noting the exits, the location of the engine, rooms on the deck as well as details of light locations and windows for the parts that would remain above water. It checks out: no overtly fancy modifications as far as you can tell so you can plan around the original model reasonably enough.

“Where was their last posted location?” you ask, stroking your chin. “20 kilometres south east of Southtown,” the laptop-equipped Knight replies quickly, continuing to type away “Looks like they’re going to anchor for a while and then turn back to their mummy and daddy’s holiday homes in Barbados—that’s the place they embarked from as far as I can tell.”

Gears turn in your head, plans are beginning to formulate and you’re already picking out what’s feasible and discarding ones that don’t seem to pan out. “We’ll need to draw close, but enough to stay outta sight. Half of you boys should swim up around the rear, sneak aboard and knock out any burly guys who could pass for guards or some kinda threat. I’d love to just hit and run but this boat looks like it’ll need a bit more.”

You ponder some more, and then you grin and click your fingers in time with the imaginary lightbulb switching on in your head—something genius! “I got it. I’ll simply get a speedboat over to the ship, won’t be dressed in my usual pirate gear, but I’ll get all dolled up so I look like I fit right in. I’d bring the dog—where did he go anyway?—but it’s not the particular rich person breed, y’know? Either way, if they run background checks on me,” you make a haughty face, pulling yourself into an uptight, indignant hand on hip pose with your other cradling an imaginary wine glass “—my pedigree will check out.”

The Knights cackle and roar with laughter in their own ways, some applauding the idea. You nod, and clap your hands together “I’ll distract them by making a big commotion, it’ll draw attention away from where that group are to swim towards and sneak in. I’ll keep a phone on me, someone should stay on the ship and keep an eye on things—sorry I didn’t get headset cameras so we can bring this into the 21st century so we’ll have to use markers on these blueprints as a map, all oldschool—and I’ll ring HQ to signal the next stage of the plan, aight?”

Your crew nod eagerly, Lao hums and asks “How exactly are we gonna sneak up? We getting a dinghy or what? You’re gonna use a speedboat or something?”

“Yep, gonna use a speedboat so I definitely have all eyes on me ‘specially with that engine roaring. If they’re near some outcrops o’rock it’ll be easier to let you guys out from the ship all hidden and swim over—can’t have you too tired for the rest of the plan.” Hmm, that was an interesting point. You look over at Shion who seems curiously transfixed by the whole shebang. Bless. “I doubt we’ve got any of those in those particular coastal seas, might need to get a couple of tubs and some oars.”

“…so what’ll we do for escaping if we get the loot?” another asks. Naturally you’re already well equipped with ideas “Now I figure, once you guys get that at least away and towards our ship, we can make all the commotion we want. To that end—Lao, you should burst through onto the deck to meet me once you have the loot secure, and we’ll just act like you’re kidnapping me too, and then we hop onto the ship and get outta dodge. If they try ask locals here about a missing woman, they’ll find out the Lilien Knights swindled ‘em! Any objections?”

The crew look at each other listlessly, shrugging here and there before looking back at you blankly. You were never too sure if they actually had any objections but were too afraid to voice them, or just simply nothing else to add to proceedings.

“Alright! Guess we’ve got a plan. Now, I’ll raid my wardrobe and see if I’ve got anything worth using, otherwise it’s a shopping trip for me. Meeting dismissed; let’s start prepping, lads!”

* * *

 

An hour and at least 5 outfits shot down by your internal fashion designer taste later, you’re standing listlessly in your quarters frowning at what’s left. When did you actually have, let alone wear, all of this shit? Stuff gathers, you suppose and sigh wordlessly. There’s a knock on your door and you call “Who is it?”

“Shion,” the answer comes, in that unmistakeably reedy Shion voice. You open the door and there she is, looking oddly meek at you. “Are you really going through with that plan?”

“Yeah, why?” you blink, before ushering her into the room “Sorry, I’m just trying on outfits and I’d rather not let the lads catch me mid change.”

“Well it… seems a little patchy as far as plans go,” she murmurs, rubbing the back of her head “but I suppose I’m also an outsider looking in, so I may be underestimating your bonds and coordination.”

“You’d be right in that! Trust me pet, it all comes together fine,” you grin confidently, turning back to your wardrobe and fishing out what designer labels you can find in a summery cut “You wanna watch? You’re free to. Hell if you want to play the part of a rich kid debutante that’s cool too, might need some help with that distracting business in case the boys take too long pilfering.”

She nods at you silently, and you feel a little bit bad because honestly you thought this was something to be at least somewhat enthused about. Right? Or were you imagining it? In any case, something’s kinda off with Shion anyhow, but you’ll have to address it later. There’s money to earn, and clothes to try on.

“Oh neat, I still have this Saint Laurent swimsuit… maybe pair that with some of this gold…” You’re not sure if the two piece swimsuit’s gonna fit; better make sure before you risk trying to fit in with your posh kindred for the first time in a while. You wriggle your arms out from under the straps of your dress, and you’re almost topless when you hear Shion speak.

“Uh… should I—should I be in here while you’re changing your clothes?”

“Huh?” you turn to face your guest, who is averting her eyes as well as holding out her hand in the direction of you, presumably obscuring sight of your chest. You tilt your head, angling your hips the opposite way and lean on one leg, bewildered “What? Pssh, you’re acting like you’ve never seen it before—well maybe not on me but surely on yourself? Eh, we’re friends here so who cares. I need a second opinion on this outfit anyhow.”

You continue on unabashedly, humming away as you swap your full outfit for the summery get up: a two-piece swimsuit adorned with sharp geometric patterns not unlike that of a distinct art movement (that you’re not actually familiar with due to not paying much attention to academics), with something similar albeit plainer for a sarong type skirt (you can’t resist exposing one long leg though, some things need to be consistent!) and your golden hair is messily tied in an up-style bun at the back, loosely so some short strands hang out. You’re really feeling the beach here, even if your current surroundings of a large tin-can don’t quite match it! You turn to Shion with a flourish, turning to show off all angles for emphasis “So? How do I look?”

Shion is staring at you with only the tiniest indication she’s slack-jawed and wide-eyed; she looks completely awed by you and sure, you might look fucking **great** , but there’s a point where there can’t just be ‘oh I look great’ as the reason? _Something’s_ going on but hey, you’re just going to put it down to her habit of being naturally mysterious. Oh gosh, is she blushing? What an adorable shut-in—well alright you weren’t really sure you could attribute such reactions and shyness to that _exactly_ , but that’s your hunch and you’re sticking to it.

“Well?” you speak again, trying to prod a verbal answer.

“Beautiful,” Shion blurts out and then almost instantly looks away at the wall. You blink once, and glance at her hands which were now balled up into fists and shaking. What? You laugh merrily ( ~~you have to, you’ve zero clue what to do otherwise that could possibly break the tension~~ ) and strike a pose.

“Not quite the answer I was looking for, but hey, if I’m pretty they’ll eat me right up! Metaphorically. I hope. I don’t think they ARE cannibals but now I’m a little unsure.” It’s a joke meant to take the sudden edge off of the atmosphere in your room radiating from Shion, and it kinda works? For a start, she’s looking back at you a little bashfully and smiling too, looking a little embarrassed at herself. “Ah, **relax,** compliment’s a compliment. Ladycrushes are all good. We’ll just have to wait til after the heist for us to start gossiping about that though, okay?”

“Sure,” she answers, a little bit more together as far as you can tell. “I think I’ll volunteer to help your men with the actual theft, rather than attract attention. You might need someone light on their feet.”

Huh. Well, that does make a lot of sense. You consider it, and y’know, it’s not such a bad plan “Sounds like a good idea to me. You alright with that kind of pressure?”

“Trust me, it’s child’s play compared to my previous job.”

 _What the hell._ Stop being so fucking enigmatic if you’re going to throw juicy but vague morsels of hints, Shion!! You’re just going to have to tolerate it, you suppose; there’s no time to really sit her down and squeeze out all that info after all. “Alright then! I guess on that note, we’ll leave it at that. I say it’ll be a good idea to rest up before the big day; we’re gonna need to be on the ball and fully charged.”

“Okay. Good night Jenet. Sleep well,” Shion murmurs, bowing before leaving your room. The gesture strikes you so off balance that you’ve barely managed to respond in kind by the time the door’s closed behind her; you really weren’t going to get over that politeness, were you?


	9. High Tide Theft

9: SHION

-

Jenet’s so-called ‘big day’ had finally arrived and you had first row tickets to the event. The raiding unit had gotten their wooden ‘tubs’ ready with their oars, lapping the piers and extending outward as to divert suspicion. The ship had their communications ‘HQ’ set up and connected to all divisions involved, and lastly Jenet herself had picked out her outfit and rented a high-end speedboat, posting one of the slightly less agile and able Knights by her side to pose as a personal chauffeur. As much as this operation was weighing on your mind, Jenet’s outfit and her so casually changing in front of you was vying for the same amount of attention, and the fact that this very thing was even occurring to you was sending your mind ablaze with all sorts of second-guessing. You hadn’t had such borderline existential concerns in… well, _ever_ , and it didn’t help in the slightest that these utterly alien emotions that filled you with genuine benign warmth (what strangeness that honest goodness was!) and giddiness were beginning to appear more and more frequently around this pirate.

Indeed, you recall Magaki’s derision of humanity, and Mukai’s rebuttal that there is so much more to them than his colleague of sorts would admit. You wish you could tell Mukai just how right he was, but perhaps not in the way he thought—humanity’s potential seems to lie in their emotions, and how those can fuel their deeds; right now you’re succumbing to emotions you never thought you’d ever be faced with. Hatred, jealousy, fear, those were familiar concepts but… but whatever this Bonne Jenet woman was encouraging to grow within you was utterly unknown and dangerously powerful in how it seized your mind and soul and how quickly it sunk in its tendrils. With such description you dryly note that it sounds par for the course for any Orochi associated individual (be you an Earthly or Heavenly King or even one of Those From The Past), but the jarring fact about it was that Jenet was perhaps chaotic in her seeking of adventure, but she radiated a benevolent energy that made such _malevolent_ associations absurd. The paradox is tearing at you, but you also find that you really do enjoy being near her eternally sunny disposition which only aggravates it all the more.

You’re sitting with the Lilien Knights assigned to the actual robbery, rowing along beside the hulking ship they called home. They’re going in circles deliberately until Jenet’s already over, to mask their own movements as best as possible. All of them are stealing glances at you and murmuring among themselves, and you snarl slightly “Is there a problem?”

“N-Nah, no we were just—“

“You’re just real pretty Miss Shion.”

“Mate--Shut up!”

Ah, so that’s what it was about. That much you could…tolerate at some degree, even if they too, just like their lacking boss, assumed too much about you. You smile but it’s not a welcoming, encouraging or joking one; there’s an edge to it that in itself has a couple of them gulping and looking away. “Charmed, but we’ve more important things to think about. Focus on your mission. Ms Jenet seems like the type to frown on failure. Would I be correct?”

The men actually look panicked at the idea of failing her. She truly does have them under control—it’s rather admirable to you, but perhaps not to society at large. No wonder she was more towards their societal margin, but she still seems to have retained some degree of effectiveness to earn respect. Very interesting.

One of the men receives a call, grunts as a greeting and the phone blares back despite the lack of loudspeaker “Go! She’s already aboard!”

And just like that, they start rowing furiously, bar the large man (Lao is the name you heard, and he’s fearsome enough at a glance) who rowed once for every two rows his comrades made. Your boat is making good time, the sparkling yacht rapidly approaching as you discern no level of detection on their part, and a considerable gathering at the open deck. Charisma certainly oozed from Jenet when you met her and she’s evidently putting it to good use here too; what a commendable use of her abilities, you note with a faintly surprised blink. You didn’t think she had it in her to pull together this patchwork crew into anything cohesive, but she had a damn good start here.

As the yacht’s quieter rear comes into view, you notice the Knights all slowly lowering themselves into the water (to minimise sound from the loud splash that diving would yield) and swimming to their destination, clutching the stainless steel ladder leading up into the boat. Perhaps you should do the same, as you watch the scrawniest one pinch a nerve in the lone guard’s neck and send him to sleep. They filter aboard, and so do you eventually, sopping wet and probably shivering if not for the blindingly sunny day. Another Knight joins his beanpole of an ally and they steadily infiltrate the cramped route to the control room, and scoring this string of events is loud chatter, laughter and glasses clinking outside amid the unsuspecting targets. You almost wish you could see Jenet’s face, and you immediately reprimand yourself for such an odd thought.

The pirate vanguards drag the guards out of sight, a couple stealing their clothes before slipping away into the guts of the vessel. You’ve managed to slink into the shadows enough to allow them as much space to execute their plans as possible, and as far as you can tell, this motley crew of mismatched sizes and ages seem to meld together perfectly. Nothing’s going awry from what you discern, but you can assume if it did, they were more than capable of adapting on the fly. This is also without the bonding leadership of Bonne Jenet to unite them all into something cohesive, so it’s all the more impressive considering your first impression of this crew was that of incredible ineptitude.

It takes about half an hour of pretend-security guard rotas in front of an entire safe being hoisted out by the incredibly strong Lao, and you’re concerned about how much that excuse of a kayak’s actually going to take when he returns with two more smaller ones. He senses your concern and smirks, winking and showing you a thumbs up. You’re still not convinced, until his phone buzzes again and he murmurs “Aight, there’s the signal,” while tossing the safes into the water—

\--or so it seemed, as the trusty submersible ship surfaced with a hatch flying open with uncanny timing to allow the safes to clang in. Just as quickly as he did that, Lao bolted towards the deck, and you’re compelled to follow. A quick glance informs you of the remaining crew members hopping aboard the ship which soon submerges again, and then you’re hot on Lao’s trail through the yacht, as the party din turns to panic and confusion. The fuss turns up another notch as Lao reveals a gun (when the hell did he pocket one of those?!) and point it at the goers, roaring “Nobody move an inch! We’re here for your money and—this fine girl over here!”

Predictably he points to Jenet, who screams and acts like her compact muscle (which can faintly be seen in its definition under her tanned skin, illuminated by the sun--and why are you noticing this?) is non-existent, turning into a real damsel in distress. You have to hand it to her acting to willingly ignore her fighting spirit to carry out such a plan, but you’re disconcerted about the swell of anger within as you watch a pot-bellied, balding middle aged man in highly unflattering swimwear try get in Lao’s way by grabbing Jenet and summoning a vague impression of bravado “H-Hey y’big lout, y’can’t just paw any heiress on this here boat!”

Your red eyes narrow, coiling like a snake about to strike, but for Lao casually backhanding him out of the way and picking up Jenet like she weighed nothing (and after that safe she probably felt like nothing to the hulking Knight). He backs towards the edge, the ship surfaces behind him as he raucously laughs—you then realise that if you don’t do something you’re going to be stuck on this boat too, and bolt towards him. Lao grabs you under his arm and boasts to the wealthy targets “Two for one deal, this is even better than before! We’ll spare your lives as thanks!”

With another guffaw, he makes an improbable leap onto the ship, throwing you and a screaming Jenet down the hatch before following in, closing it behind him. The ship submerges and from the pile you’ve found yourself in, Jenet claps and cheers “Fucking brilliant! Smooth operation boys, great job all round! Did we get an estimate on the cash we took?”

“Worth probably about 1.5 mill, boss!”

She leaps to her feet and looks almost reenergised by that information “Perfect! Plenty to share around the crew and plenty to boost the needy as well; 100k each, and 500k for the not-so-well-off and that sounds like a good day’s work and charity in one!”

So they did see themselves as true Robin Hood types, despite Jenet trying to simply claim their business as a more selfish enterprise… she downplayed her goodness. You could barely comprehend that someone of her stature even bothered to be humble where it counted as well as charitable! There’s something lodged under your heart, and it feels like embers singeing the underside with every pulse, growing more and more as you watch her joke with Lao, and it _**erupts** _ when she smiles at you so fully.

“You awright pet? Y’wanna come with me and help some down on their luck folks?”

“Uh, s-sure.”

“Nice one. We’ll lay low a lil bit, then hand out tomorrow!” She glanced over her shoulder to watch Lao trudge towards the sleeping quarters, before looking back at you with eyes aglow with sincerity “Thanks a bunch for helping.”

“Huh?!” Now you’re bewildered; you know your contribution was minimal if even counted at all “But I did so little—“

“Ah you helped sell it all as a little bit more genuine, pet! Every little bit helps as the good ol’ chain shop jingle goes, and I wanted t’thank you for that, and also offerin’ a hand with the dole out.” She takes your hands— you jump a little despite yourself—and beams even brighter “I appreciate it a bunch; you’re the best.”

Despite your lingering judgement trying to coax you into remaining stoic, insisting you should know better than to do so, you slowly echo her smile with one of your own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter's going to be a lot of fun! Hopefully I'll have it ready soon. Plenty of truthbombs to be dropped.


	10. Kusanagi Truthbomb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Author notes: KOFXI in this ends with an alternate, more cooperative effort between Elisabeth’s team and Kyo’s team rather than Kyo’s team getting instantly wrecked by Magaki. Also I kept writing ‘Those Who Came Before’ instead of ‘Those From The Past’ and these two things are not the same by any stretch of the imagination, ha! Obviously with KOF14 announced, this may be soon be revealed to be thoroughly non-canon when it comes to Shion’s own motivation but, time will tell!)

10: JENET

-

“Thank you miss!”

The poor old man’s got missing teeth and some bad hygiene but that’s not much he can help, nor do you really care once you can tell he’s absolutely overjoyed as he holds $500 in his hands as delicately as he might a newborn grandchild. You beam and offer two thumbs up “Hey, no prob! Use that well and use it right, that’s all I wantcha to do.”

You’re pretty sure that’s the last unfortunate on the street you could find, and after giving to both homeless and the shelters, you’re positive that they were now more than capable of handling folks now with cash in hand to pay what they can—something to help ease the day-to-day misery of theirs. The shelters said they could make them presentable for job applications and interviews if they had enough, and by gum did you pay their way. Nice boost to Southtown there, you hope.

“Ever do charity work before?” you ask your companion, your ever mysterious and rather cute new recruit Shion. She shakes her head, but you have noticed she’s been giving off a rather unyieldingly content vibe since you started this little donation drive. It does warm the heart to know you’re doing good, after all!

“First time but not the last; you’ve introduced me to many new things, Jenet.”

“Oh psshhhffff,” you wave the formality off with a limp wristed gesture “We’re beyond that now, you can call me Jennie, y’know. Or Jennifer if I’m actually in trouble, but I hope I don’t get on your shitlist to the point of using me full name~!”

“You won’t,” was the response. After glancing over to see why that two-word response was laden with a lot of meaning, you catch Shion’s face turning away rapidly to look at a particularly interesting turn in the street; but for all of two milliseconds you spot a giddy grin and a pair of wide ruby eyes and now you have a distinct hunch about what is going on with her attitude towards you, yet curiously you’re not inclined to let her down gently…if at all. But of course, as safe a hunch as _that_ felt, you didn’t want to completely jump the gun so it’s best to keep mum on the topic for now.

“I hope! Ha, I’ll be good, even if the locals like to call me ‘Bad Girl’. We’re almost back at the docks; I can tell you how I got that nickname too!”

Shion winced.

“Don’t be a blummin’ nun about it; you don’t even know the story yet!” Which was true, you hadn’t even managed to talk about your first flirts and extremely brief flings lasting all of 3 hours before boredom or irritation sunk in—and okay, maybe this wasn’t a good topic to discuss with someone totally crushing on you, but you weren’t sure if you knew much else that you could talk to her about. Shion seemed a hell of a lot more intellectual than you, and what academics you have…aren’t necessarily the best or brainiest either. The best you had were a vague idea of your country’s monarchs in history and a few of the old nobility still clinging to their dusty old titles that meant very little in this modern day—your mum included.

“Oh, huh, who’s that at the port?” you blink, spotting someone with some kind of staff at the entrance to the harbour. “Wonder who they’re waiting for.”

A few steps closer to the port’s mouth and you can feel Shion beside you freeze up as the individual becomes clearer. The staff is actually a simply decorated spear, and the person holding it looks to be… Kyo?? The hell was he doing here? Long way away from home that’s for sure, thought he was back there because of the tournaments ending for the time being…

“Oh! Kyo! Hiya, whatcha doin’ in Southtown? Long time no see.” It had been a few months but, small talk would have to make do. You approach him casually even though he looked like he was going to start breaking noses any second and…staring at Shion? Huh?

“I _knew_ it. So it was really you.”

You stand aside, blinking in utter bewilderment between Kyo Kusanagi and Shion. What in the name of fresh **_fuck_** was going on? Shion looked like she’d seen a ghost, or an army of them, or was told that new book she was excited to read actually sucked and sucked **badly**. You can do little else but scratch your head and try ask what this was all about “Knew what? What’s up Kyo? Something the matter?”

“Do you realise who this is?” he looks at you with his eyes alight (well, obviously, since he can click fire out of his hands or something), pointing at the quaking waif beside you.

“Well, yeah. That’s Shion. Did she do something or…?”

“She?” Kyo now appears baffled, but after two seconds of silence he quickly goes back to the topic he’s adamantly pushing “That’s Shion alright, but he’s bad news. I know you don’t go to every King of Fighters tournament, Jenet, but you _have_ to know by now any Orochi-linked person or thing is bad for your lifespan. Magaki and Shion were part of a group known as Those From The Past, another pesky wing of evil doers trying to resurrect Orochi for their own gain. It’s a damn good thing Yuri tipped me off; I can’t believe he duped you too--”

You’re trying to process that sudden truthbomb about Shion’s previously murky history more so than pronoun shuffle time (because frankly you were considering reevaluating your attraction tickboxes in general lately but that’s obviously for another discussion), but before Kyo can continue being Mr Exposition Man, Shion lets out an unholy shriek.

“I have _nothing_ to do with them anymore! Kusanagi, you were there—you **witnessed** what happened, how else do you have my spear!?” he hisses, looking torn between a terrified, cornered animal at you or lunging for his spear like a lost unfortunate lunging for an oasis hallucination in a desert. “Are you here to finish me off? I thought Yagami to be the bloodthirsty one, not you!”

“If you’re threatening someone innocent, who has nothing to do with protecting the Treasures or Orochi, then I very well may have to. Either way, you’re bothering Jenet no more.” Kyo answers him coolly, avoiding the messy lunges until Shion just gives up and falls to his knees with a feeble whimper. Normally you’d run in there and grab Shion protectively away but right now? You’re standing listless and immobile, with this major discovery steadily sinking in.

Kyo notices, and walks over to you concernedly. His jaw is set like he’s gritting his teeth behind pursed lips but his eyes are gentle—you can vaguely tell he’s trying to think of a way to carefully put all of his next words to you. First, he asks you a question “Did he hurt you?”

“What?”

“Did he **hurt** you?” he asks again, with more urgency.

You furrow your brow and think back to your admittedly brief time together, baulking not so much at the vague question but the grim implications numbering in their thousands. Shion appeared in your room once but that was about the extent of anything odd; you don’t even remember why that happened, other than it being almost immediately after you found him. Any odd behaviour evaporated as he got to know you. You shake your head slowly, murmuring “He’s been a real sweetheart, actually. He’s taken to cooking for everyone in the crew and teaching ‘em recipes of their favourites, listened to me a lot and he’s fit in like a real Lilien Knight so far.”

“…you _enlisted_ him?” Kyo’s both exasperated and faintly amused, a sad attempt at a smile curling one corner of his face. “Should’ve known; I thought Terry was joking when he said you had a new recruit with the description Yuri gave me.”

“First thing he did was help out. I thought that meant he wanted to join in some form,” you reply quietly with a half shrug. Kyo pats your shoulder with a murmur of thanks and goes back to Shion. All you can really be grateful for right now is just the lack of spectators; no one else needs to see this—crowds that usually fill you with energy are the exact last thing you need in this moment.

“Okay Shion, can I at least give Jenet some context?” There’s a gentle nudge, and all Kyo receives is what sounds like an affirmative sigh. The KOF tourney veteran straightens up and looks back at you with an apologetic smile “Alright, I’ll try make the history short.”

To his credit, he’s explaining pretty well in a brief period what amounts to about 2000 years in 20 minutes: the three clans protecting the treasures that sealed this monstrous Orochi (never mind you’ve never really heard of this Orochi thingy but its Super Evil and that’s good enough for you), and all the little loyal cells of weirdos trying to resurrect it (Earthly Kings, Heavenly Kings, too many fucking Kings, now Those From The Past which is the _really_ relevant part to Shion), and how this has been flavouring the King of Fighters tournament since Kyo first entered them. And now that we were brought up to date:

“Okay, so, tourney number 11 ended with Those From The Past, Shion was waiting for us, and after we fought to a victory he was pulled through a dimensional hole and killed—or so we thought. Magaki came out then, and sent Iori into his Riot of Blood madness, so while Benimaru and Shingo tried to keep him contained, Elisabeth and Duo Lon and I fought Magaki. We won, but before Magaki could escape, he was killed when Shion’s spear here flew through the dimensional hole he opened up.” Kyo stamps the spear for emphasis with a dull thud “I guess that explains why Shion ended up in Southtown after all that time. I kept the spear, wanted to see if it had any Orochi vibes itself but it seems harmless alone.”

“There was another tournament though, did… did nothing happen there?” you ask, now actively curious if anything else transpired.

“Well…! Shion, do you recall Ash Crimson?” Huh. That name seemed weirdly familiar. Shion knows it very well, curiously, snarling and glaring a hole into the ground.

“ _Crimson_!? Of course I do; I can’t believe Saiki was his forefather, Crimson is so much more ineffectual and—“

“You’ll be surprised to know that Ash and Saiki are both dead now, thanks to the events of the tournament after. And I suppose… Ash isn’t _dead_ , per se, so much as managing to write himself out of existence to stop Saiki entirely, which is why very few people remember him and everyone else just thinks he was an urban legend with the green fire. Which I’m sure is the case for you, right Jenet?”

That sure explained everything about that fucker who kept calling you _rosbif_ at least; you nod non-committedly at Kyo. You’re still pretty numbed by the revelations solely concerning Shion, which spurs on the feeling (or perhaps, the right word would be _realisation_ ) that you’ve definitely grown more than fond of him. The poor thing looks bowled over by that bit of catch up, but you’re at least inwardly relieved that the slippery French pyro was _real_ once.

“Shion, is it true that Those From The Past really just want to use Orochi’s power for other means?”

“Probably, I was never distinctly told why or who for. For a long time I was fed lines about how Orochi must be released but… They’ve clearly moved on in their plan without me for better or worse.”

“…So you’re just an underling?” Kyo questions, stroking his chin with a furrowed brow.

Shion nods weakly, rubbing his face and muttering to himself “Or, at least I was. I don’t know why Magaki did that, unless… Perhaps it’s due to my sharing Mukai’s opinion on humanity’s potential and he saw it as insubordination. Being too weak to defeat you may have been an excuse to be rid of me.”

“Either way, both Magaki and Mukai are dead. Before Saiki got destroyed by his own descendant, he absorbed Mukai into himself. Those From The Past are fracturing, I’m sure of it. We just have to weed out the rest.” Kyo interjects firmly, causing Shion to stare up at him once more in shock. You’re feeling a little the same way; it’s so difficult to take this all in when you had no real clue what was going on under the depths of the KOF tournament. You turn away, running your fingers through your hair and breathing deeply to try and inject some life back into yourself. Breathe in, breathe out—some exercises were in order to try curb this hideously hollow feeling and—

“ _Please don’t take me away from her_.”

What was that noise? That was the sound of your heart first being seized by icy claws and then breaking in two, and then shattering into even smaller pieces, moving you to turn back to the miserable scene in front of you. Shion looks like a lost, dejected shadow of himself and Kyo still isn’t giving him any quarter, glaring at him with steely eyes. “I’m not risking Jenet’s safety in case your old _friends_ decide to look for you.”

He rears back, torn and hollow as his voice tries to shout out of his ragged throat “ ** _Magaki tried to kill me!_** What proof do you need that I’m nothing to them anymore?!”

Kyo says nothing to that, but looks at you instead. “What do you say?”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying not to linger on Shion’s broken spirit, but rather on the fact that _you really don’t want him suddenly taken from you either_.

“If he wants to stay with the Knights, let him stay. He’s torn up as is, so give him a break and stop interrogating him— and I think, he likes it on the ship,” you reply, keen to just stop this so you could take it to less public places already.

“I think he likes the company more,” Kyo chuckles faintly with a soft look to his eyes, idly spinning the spear in his hand though no flourish or dramatics, just twirling it like a giant spinning top. “Alright, alright; Jenet’s made a case for you and it seems like your former allies don’t want to try enlist you again. You’re off the hook, but the second I hear a distress signal from her, everyone’s going to kick your ass. Got it?”

He offers the staff end of the spear to Shion, as a bid to help him up to his feet. You watch Shion adopt a new veneer of determination, beginning to glue himself back together, and haul himself upright with ease, staring up at Kyo with set jaw “I’ll make sure that won’t be necessary.”

“Good enough for me,” Kyo acquiesces, handing him back the spear—and you’ve never seen the little whippet smile so quickly now that he’s got the spear back!—and puts his hands in his pockets “I hope that’s okay with you, Ms Jenet.”

“Oh what?” you blink-- suddenly back to reality as the tense situation’s largely gone away—but despite your outward expression, you’re still musing on the real Shion “Of course! I told you how much he’s helped us out already. Besides, I’d like to get a proper brief on my new Knight now that you’ve filled me in. Plenty to be done.”

“Alright, I’ll let you be. That’s the most interfering I’m gonna do, unless you gotta send a distress call for whatever reason.” Kyo smiles and nods at you, relieved he’s managed to get some answers and have the situation straight, even if all he’s mostly done is throw both of you for a huge loop in different ways. “Just call if you need me. Later!”

You wave Kyo off, and turn towards the harbour. The journey back to your ship was short, but felt twice as long with the silence between you two.


	11. Figuring Things Out

11: SHION

-

As glad as you are that you’re finally reunited with your beloved spear despite quickly hiding it in your personal dimensional bag of tricks, you’re not so sure what to make of what just occurred. The story about how you came to be at Southtown beach was something you were planning on telling Jenet— ~~Jennie, you quickly correct yourself~~ —at some point soon enough, you swear! Perhaps it may have been the better for Kusanagi to tell it, though, he’s able to add more context than you probably would be able to; yet at the same time you wish he hadn’t, because this silent treatment is just twisting some kind of strange frozen knife into your abdomen. So uncharacteristically solemn and quiet is Jennie that the only sound accompanying your little trip into the ship are the clip-clop of her heels, the idle crash of waves and the odd caw of a seagull.

As soon as you’re both within the vessel, you blurt out hastily “I’m sorry.”

Jenet stops walking on, but doesn’t move any further than that. You swallow thickly, feeling your heart, lungs and entire digestive system lurching up into your chest and your oesophagus feels smothered, and you echo your tone “I’m—I’m really sorry. I wanted to tell you eventually, but I never knew when the best time would be. I didn’t mean to keep this from you but—but I could just… never find the right time to tell you about myself, in full, and without any dancing around the truth.”

“Kyo said you were a kind of demon running with a group of other devil types, right?” she begins, but before you can reluctantly affirm that you’re not wholly human she adds “If… if you felt so strongly about staying with me—the- the _Knights_ rather—then… then you can’t really be a full demon—you’ve got a heart somewhere. Y’haven’t killed anyone, y’haven’t committed any ‘orrible acts-- And that’s… I guess that’s good enough for me.”

She’s facing you now, and her eyes are misty like she’s nearing the verge of tears, chewing her lip a little as she thinks; all of her actions and the way she carries herself are so utterly unlike her usual gusto and posture that it stings you in your soul with a dreadful chill spreading through your spine downwards.

“Kyo asked me if you hurt me in any way, and I think the most y’ve ever done is just barge into my room once. Otherwise you’ve been real sweet, incredibly polite and just a big help to the crew.” A pause, and Jennie manages a slight smile even if she still looks like she’s about to cry—wait, she’s approaching you now “I trust you. There’s just a lot to take in at once, y’know?”

And just like that, she pulls you into a close embrace once more; not quite like the half hugs in the bar or sitting out on the makeshift deck, but a full on hug that envelops your body.  The contrast is even more palpable than ever; you compare your sapling-thin body to her mighty oak in both build and height and decide there’s no contest amid the familiar lavender and vanilla in her arms. You fall somewhat limp as if tranquilised. The warmth is twofold, the body temperature being the obvious one, but the other being the fire in your gut ablaze with the sensation of a true embrace full to the brim of meaning.

“Mind if I have some time to myself? I’ll be thinking about what us Knights are gonna do next.”

You are released, feeling somewhat numb after a sensory overload, and nod mutely. You’ll probably do the same, and try and arrest these runaway feelings that seem to have mutated into something dramatic entirely.

Some minutes later, you’re alone near the hatch of the ship sitting starboard once more, trying to settle into a meditative pose but it’s just not cutting it. You can only pace anxiously as you pick apart all that’s happened and analyse it intently if a little too vehemently; maybe it’s best to shelve all that happened with Jennie and just try to piece together the dramatic events that transpired while you were stuck between two completely different locations at different times.

Magaki dies, Mukai gets absorbed by Saiki who gets killed by Ash Crimson and Those From The Past are back to square—well square one didn’t seem wholly truthful when the seal IS broken, so perhaps square…three? Either way, the lack of effort on your former allies’ behalf to look for you seems to encourage the idea that they were discarding you, which is both troubling and reassuring paradoxically at once. Their plan would continue, regardless of your being involved. You frown, pondering how to even begin severing your ties with them and starting fresh, where to begin with picking up shards of your original life… or whatever was left of it.

The question now begs; _who are you?_

_Who are you_ , when stripped of your badge linking you to Those From The Past? _Who are you_ when your unnatural traits are pared away? _Who are you_ as a human being, born and raised by one or two parents either biological or adopted in this world?

It’s growing difficult to swallow. You have no answer to these questions. You don’t even know whether you _were_ adopted or not-- or whether your parents both lived or raised you on their own. You don’t even think you have siblings; _did you ever have those?_ You can’t even quite remember what year you were born, your surroundings and sense of time and space blurred by your affiliation to Magaki and company. All you had to identify yourself was a name, an ethnicity and the vague culture attached to both, your body and the clothes on it, your mind and the skills retained inside of it. But… as far as connections go, you had nothing; no roots to ground you to something tangible, just that vague affiliation to time travellers which had since been thrown out entirely.  You had nothing.

Nothing; absent of value, void of a reason to be, worthless. You are worthless; an entity that has no relevance.

Your hands shake, you’re vaguely aware you’re on your feet and moving, there’s distant sounds of clanging but you’re unable to discern whether it’s your doing or a nearby Lilien Knight; you’re mumbling to where your spear is kept, hoping to anchor yourself to _something_. All the while you’re gradually more and more convinced that you’re nothing more than an artificial creation with fabricated memories and knowledge solely engineered to further Those From The Past’s goals, with no purpose of your own, and the glue holding you together is coming unstuck and so is your mind.

“Shion!” a voice calls, undoubtedly female and the very last thing you want to hear.

As naturally as you’d simply breathe in, your spear flies into your hands and you twirl about—your technique is shaky but it’s impossible to care about grace when you don’t even think your identity is real anymore—and you point your weapon at the offending trespasser. Jenet stares at you, unmoving with her hands held up at spear-point, about to say something but words have since been muffled by the unexpected threat.

“Go away!” you shriek, wild-eyed and shaking feverishly.

“Shion,” she tries again, pleadingly “What’s up? This isn’t like you—!”

“I’m _nothing_! I’m not Shion, I’m **_no one_**!” is your wounded answer, gripping your spear until your knuckles are white like you feel as if you’ll dissolve without an anchor, and you point it even more aggressively at her. “I’m a worthless creature that has no business here and especially not with **you** —not anymore!”

“Oh for fuck sake,” is the gruff and extremely British answer, and before you try jab the blade any closer to her beautiful face, she’s batted it so hard to her left that it takes your lightweight body with it. You tumble briefly but manage to recover, scooting close to the edge of the ship, rearing back to stare at her like a cornered animal. She’s in a more focused stance; whatever casual or cheerful demeanour she’s known for is absent now as she glares, coiling up her own springs and mustering all the seriousness she can. “Shion, pet, you’re one of the Lilien Knights! You’ve got a new family with us. You’re someone—to _me_.”

You refuse to listen, so convinced of your worthlessness and lack of own identity and sense of belonging that you lash out furiously. She deflects your spear swing, dodges the follow up thrust with the blunt end and you feel her elbow catching your cheek, forcing you to look further in the opposite direction. Jenet swings around behind you and readies a roundhouse kick, blocked in the last moment by your spear held vertically aloft, and your following sweep sends her flying to the metallic floor.

Your eyes glaze over, and as quickly as you’ve dismissed your own sense of self, Jenet’s identity blurs into one unrecognisable foe lying vulnerable. With a roar, you leap up, pouncing with the spear’s tip ready to embed itself in your enemy’s neck, but they’re just too fast. You’re too slow, too weak to just dispose of this pain in the neck, and you just get angrier and angrier at yourself and much more reckless and disjointed. Your swings and jabs get more wild and arbitrary as your blurry foe becomes more agile and adept at avoiding you. Your foe ducks a horizontal mid swing, and closes the distance enough to jab you in the elbow. With a shriek of fury you slam your knee into the enemy’s gut and spring away, granting yourself that comfort of distance.

A sudden gust of wind knocks you off kilter, something that confounds you further when you know the skies have been relatively still all day. As you try to pin down the source, your foe is already trying to wrestle the spear free from your iron grasp, eventually settling for using it as a means to flip you over, and you land painfully on your back with a loud clang. The world spins for a few moments, and despite that impact (which slammed the realisation of your opponent somehow manifesting that gust of wind as their skill into your head) you ardently try to get up.

“Shion, please, it’s me. You have to stop fighting, pet! Maybe you don’t know who you are? I’ll help you find some kind of name for yourself—you’re still a Knight!”

These words barely make it to you, only to be deflected away by the trance-like state you’re in. Desperation and blind fury are all you know, and you charge. With a shrill howl you swing violently in an upwards diagonal, seemingly catching your opponent though you manage to stumble in the process. Despite their new wound they’re in an exceptional position to disarm you and duly take advantage, using elbows to the spear in conjunction with a knee to your gut bringing you downwards. You can hear the spear clanging aimlessly away, and before you can try and roll away, you’re caught in a hold. The smell of vanilla and lavender filters in, and your focus returns, only to be underlined with a sense of dread when a very palpable iron scent skews what was normally an incredibly comforting smell.

“You’re an absolute bastard, ha! You got me a little, there.”

Jennie _sounded_ amused but you wriggle out of the hold frantically to check what damage you’ve done (and you realise she was just hugging you very tightly), holding her shoulders to see a red streak oozing lazily with blood from her shoulder. It’s not a light mark by any means, but a fairly substantive cut. She’s bearing it with pride, and is only concerned with you.

“Are you feeling better, pet?”

“I hurt you.”

“It’s fine,” she huffs, waving it off “Tis but a scratch, as the Black Knight said. I’ll be fine. Are you okay? What’s all this identity crisis business? What brought that on?” And Jennie puts her hands on your shoulders and looks so _sincerely worried_ about you that your guilty heart flutters briefly before steeping itself back into a sea of apologies over the mark you left. “You don’t have to worry, maybe you don’t know what you’re doing now, but… you’ll find it eventually! And I’ll help too, always. You don’t need those old pricks who treated you terribly, us Knights will do you right. You’ve got friends here, with the boys, with me too.”

You flutter helplessly, thinking of so many worst case scenarios at once and almost all of them courtesy of your former ‘colleagues’ “You heard what Kyo said; you could be putting yourself in so much danger—what if they come back to look for me? I don’t want you to get hurt…”

Jennie is indifferent, and shrugs (you grimace as a fresh trickle of claret spills out of her shoulder) “Whatever, I’m ready for anything— I’ll just have to fight them and tell ‘em to bugger off.”

“You don’t _understand_ ,” you plead, heart sore with the grim images playing out in the corner of your mind that may ensue, should your old associates find you “I’d be better off leaving you and the Knights so no one else gets pulled into this mess. Kyo’s right.”

Jennie’s bravado fades, and she seems a little glum.

“…I thought you wanted to stay here.”

“I don’t want you to _get hurt_ because of **_me_** —but I still do really want to stay here. It’s the first place I can really call home, where I feel safe and considered an equal. The company’s nice, too.” You trail off, fingers curling in the hem of your golden shirt and eyes staring at your feet as you become unexpectedly tongue-tied.

Your captain beams anew, emboldened “Well, that feeling’s mutual for sure!”

You pause, eyes widening as it seems time slows as if to urge you to act on that opening. Maybe five seconds pass in what feels like an agonising age, and as you try to collect yourself you can almost feel the bewildered look from the Englishwoman. Drawing yourself up, steeling your resolve, you look Jennie in the eye and murmur “…I hope a few feelings are.”

“A few feelings—being _mutual_? …oh. Oh goodness, Shion,” Jennie chuckles softly with a tender smile and shakes her head “I feel all faint and lightheaded, but even the romantic in me is saying that’s probably cos of me blummin’ shoulder. C’mon, let’s go below deck. I’ll clean up and I might be more clear-minded to give you a proper reply.”

She shuffles towards the hatch, and you are quick to banish your spear in a flustered flurry to follow her in.


End file.
